Vampires and paint don't mix
by DarknessBloodAngel
Summary: "Colors of all shades and hues stained both their bodies, and the room surrounding them." - Klaus and Damon are painting, and you don't exactly need to be Albert Einstein to figure out that it won't end well.


**(A/N) Hey hey there Klamon fans! I just can't stop with ideas for these two, they seriously should be at least a friendship or something on the show. I've loved the idea of them together ever since they met with Klaus in his real body, and I noticed how Damon was always looking at his lips (or maybe it was more of an Ian/Joseph thing, IDK) or there always seemed to be "something" there. It's a hell of a lot stronger than Delena (I don't like that pairing anymore, I think the writers are just gonna royally f*** it up with the sire-bond crap), that's for sure.**

**So, went off on a bit of a tangent there, but this one shot is, as the title and summary imply, kind of like a painting class, but it's M rated, and has Damon and Klaus in it, so I'll leave you all to fill in the gaps.**

**Review with your thoughts guys, I may not be the best writer around, but I do try.**

~ooOOoo~

"Damon, why are you drawing a deformed camel?"

Damon scowled and clenched his fist around his paintbrush, staring at the marked canvas in front of him. He still couldn't believe his luck, _painting_ of all things, with Klaus. He wouldn't admit it, but Klaus was an amazing artist. Damon guessed that the fact he'd been alive for over a thousand years would give him enough time to hone and perfect his skills.

"It's supposed to be a house," Damon tore his eyes away from his 'deformed camel' and angrily flung his paintbrush into the air, spraying drops of black paint into the atmosphere. Klaus, with an expert display of reflex, caught Damon's paintbrush before it had time to plummet to the ground. "Why do I even have to be here?" Damon huffed out in annoyance, all but snatching his paintbrush back from Klaus.

"Because Stefan said you were falling off the rails a bit, and believe it or not, painting is actually quite calming," the hybrid responded, training his eyes back onto his own canvas, dipping his paintbrush into the lump of green paint which was sitting in the palette.

Damon snuck a peek, and instantly felt jealous, not to mention angry. It was only a simple landscape, a forest with the odd sun-ray shining through the tops of the trees, but Klaus had done it in such a way, used the paint so effectively, that Damon thought he was looking at a photo and not a painting.

"Not if you can't do it," he grumbled.

"True," Klaus was now swapping out the vibrant green for a translucent blue. Damon didn't fail to notice the subtle look at his eyes before he began using the blue paint, then he thought about all the judgemental and harsh, accusing stares he'd gotten over the past few weeks, and anger instantly swarmed his system.

With a sudden twitch of his hand, and spark of white-hot anger, Damon's paintbrush was suddenly flying for the back of Klaus' head. He whipped around, catching it again. "Really Damon?"

"Worth a shot," he shrugged absent-mindedly, trying desperately to keep his anger under control, but he was struggling. He was only here, painting with Klaus, because Elena wanted him occupied so he didn't run around killing innocent people. Damon clenched his fist again, feeling his bones tense all the way up to his shoulder - since when did he have to do what _Elena_ told him?

"So, why did Stefan elect you President of the 'let's get Damon good' club?" he snarled bitterly. Damon felt like he was a ticking time-bomb, ready to go off at any moment. No matter how hard he tried to calm down, his mind was always plagued with visions of Elena's nail-bitingly annoying judgemental stare-down, or Stefan's firmly knotted eyebrows and his reprimands about feeding on innocent people, and Damon didn't particularly want to think about the fire in Bonnie's voice when she swore to take him out if he spilled another drop of innocent blood.

But out of the whole group, Damon knew Stefan was the biggest hypocrite. He was a _ripper_, because he never learned to control his blood lust, and Damon had. He was just indulging in a few pleasures of his own, but was getting lectured for it. He smirked to himself suddenly, imaging the anger and shock Elena's face would have on it if he began lecturing her the same way. She wasn't exactly a Saint either, she was leading him on one day, and then trying to get back with Stefan the next.

"Because maybe I'm the only decent artist within a fifty mile radius of Mystic Falls, what with Jeremy and Tyler away," Klaus voice distracted him from his thoughts which were making the red curtain in front of his vision intensify. Damon hated how whenever _he_ did something bad, which was usually to save Elena's life, he never lived it down. Yet when Stefan did something, and felt guilt, everyone was sparing him the lecture they were currently giving him.

"Away on what?" Damon's brows quirked, and a cheeky grin plastered onto his face, although he knew it didn't reach his eyes.

"Not what you think, Damon," Klaus chuckled, setting down his palette and balancing his paintbrush precariously on top of it. He walked a little closer to Damon, who had given up completely on his painting, knowing he was going to get nowhere fast, or be _anywhere_ near as good as Klaus. "Elena sent Jeremy over to their relatives in Denver because of your, recent activities, shall we say? And Tyler decided to leave town. He said something about there being too many bad memories in this town."

Damon threw his paintbrush down in frustration, and slid down to his knees. It angered him to know that even if he so much as _drank_ from an 'innocent human' as Elena put it, with her best judgemental look, that he would get chastised for it. Sometimes, he was severely tempted to turn Elena into a vampire, so she would know how difficult it was to control the blood lust. But Stefan would probably take the reins and make her feed on animal blood.

"What's wrong, mate?" Klaus sat down beside him, gently laying a hand on his shoulder.

"Why do you care?" Damon snapped. He winced a moment after, it sounded too tetchy for his liking.

"Don't answer my question with another question, just tell me," Klaus told him. The keen look in his eyes told Damon that he wanted to know, and that his interests were genuine.

"I'm tired of everyone going all self-righteous on my ass, just because I'm acting the way a vampire acts; killing people to survive," Damon took a deep breath to keep from exploding, "Elena was yelling in my ear last week, Stefan had that serious look on his face, and Queen of Judgyness was threatening to 'take me out' and I don't think she meant to dinner."

"You can hit me for saying this Damon - not that it would hurt - but Elena is so wrapped up in making the people around her how _she _wants them to be, and when they're not, she gets frustrated and whines like a little baby that hasn't had its bottle," Klaus explained. Damon almost did a double-take. He had it spot on, but how did Klaus know all that?

"How do you know all this?" he narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"I've picked up a few things-" Klaus began.

"In the midst of all your killing and wreaking havoc?" Damon supplied with a cheeky grin.

"I'm free most Sundays," Klaus joked, making them both chuckle, "but if I remember correctly, it's _you _doing that, love."

Damon's brows furrowed slightly. Since when did Klaus call him love? He brushed it off, and shifted into a more comfortable position. "When did you start becoming my guidance counsellor?"

"You're the one who starting talking," Klaus pointed out, and Damon nodded in agreement, "now come on, that deformed camel's not gonna paint itself." Klaus patted Damon's shoulder, using his body to push himself up from the floor.

"It's a house!" Damon protested feebly, picking up his paintbrush, and standing up.

"Sure, whatever you say Damon," Klaus chuckled. Damon eyed Klaus' smug grin, which was ever-present as he painted his picture - his very _good_ picture Damon hated to admit - and the end of his paintbrush. A devious grin formed on his face, and he dipped his paintbrush into the pot of black paint. If he was going to be here against his will, he might as well have some fun with it.

"I can't paint anyway," Damon huffed, hiding his paintbrush from Klaus' view as he looked at him. Then he revealed his paintbrush, and the grin he'd stifled, "well, not on canvases," he flicked the end of the paintbrush towards Klaus, and black spatters appeared on his shirt.

"You shouldn't have done that Damon," Klaus shook his head warningly at him. Damon couldn't stop smirking.

"Why, what are you gonna do about it?" he asked cockily. As an answer, he got a red covered paintbrush flicked his way. He side-stepped it, but a fleck or two still got on his arm. "Well, I suppose I walked right into that one."

Klaus grinned wickedly, and the next thing Damon knew, his shirt was covered in green paint. He looked down at the damage, and he realised Klaus had _thrown _an entire paint pot at him. "Oh, it's on!"

Damon grabbed a paint pot filled with a neon shade of orange, and tossed it towards Klaus' head. A large portion of it splashed onto his shirt, and his right jean leg. In return, Klaus held up the pot of pink paint, and Damon's eyes widened. If there was a color he didn't want on him - and he didn't really have much of a choice - it was _pink_, hands down.

He saw it coming for him in a wave, and dived for the floor behind the canvas he'd been painting on, rolling forward so he didn't hit his head. The pink splattered over the floor, and Damon knew Klaus' siblings, particularly Kol, would have a million and one questions to ask him about the current mess, and soon to be paint explosion.

Damon twisted behind his canvas as Klaus threw another pot of paint at him, hearing the paint splatter against the canvas. He peeked his head around the corner, and saw a _large_ splash of brown, completely covering what Klaus had called Damon's deformed camel. He grabbed the small pot of red, and launched over towards Klaus.

"You throw like a girl!" he ducked, the stream of red sailing over his head. Damon grinned, he'd missed him on purpose. He grabbed the tube of orange paint, quickly unscrewed the cap, and launched the tube towards Klaus. It twirled in the air, and Klaus didn't move out of the way quick enough.

"Bullseye!" Damon cheered, fist pumping the air as the tube splattered orange paint over Klaus' shirt. "You were saying Klausy-boo?" he teased him, ducking behind his canvas to throw some red paint.

"That's it!" Klaus growled, easily bypassing Damon's throw of a red paint tube. He disappeared in a blur, and Damon looked around, clutching his paintbrush in a measly form of defence. He didn't know what Klaus was planning, but it wasn't good.

His ears caught a rush of air, and before he had time to realise it was Klaus, something extremely cold and gloopy was poured onto his head. Damon didn't need to be a genius to know it was paint. He caught sight of his wispy reflection in the large bay window across from them. The majority of his hair and a little of his shoulders were _bright green_. He looked over at Klaus, who was grinning impishly.

"Man, I look like a swamp monster threw up on me!" Damon complained, putting his fingers into his hair, coming away with neon green tips. Klaus chuckled, and Damon turned around to flick whatever paint that was left on his paintbrush at him, but he was hit with a chest-full of white paint before he could. It dripped down his shirt, onto his jeans, and then the floor.

"Hey! This is John Varvatos dude, _not _cool!" Damon growled, flinging his paintbrush towards Klaus, who got a light spotting of red on his neck, giving him the illusion of a vampire bite, "you're getting my dry cleaning bill mister!"

There was another rush of air, and Damon panicked momentarily as he realised he had just thrown his only form of offense and defence at Klaus, who was now stood in front of him. He had a twinkle in his eye that Damon had never seen before. "Well, why don't we take it off?" he suggested.

Wordlessly, Damon nodded. Klaus smiled, and rolled up the hem of Damon's shirt, being agonizingly slow. Damon couldn't help but wonder if he was staring at his muscles, not that he could blame him of course. He held his arms up as his complete upper torso was exposed, and Klaus pulled the fabric off his arms.

Damon grinned, and realised he still had some wet paint in his hair. He smeared his fingers in it, and then wiped them across Klaus' shirt, smirking. Klaus looked at him, and the twinkle in his eyes was accompanied with a teasing look, edged with hunger. It confirmed Damon's suspicions about Klaus staring at his chest.

"Do you have a death wish, Damon?" he demanded lightly, pulling the hem of his shirt away from his stomach to inspect the four finger smears of green.

"Maybe," Damon grinned, "that was payback for my shirt."

"Pity, you _do _realise I have to take this off now, don't you?" Klaus told him, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Do it then," Damon dared him. Klaus eyed him mischievously, flawlessly pulling the paint massacred gray Henley shirt over his head. Damon couldn't help but stare, Klaus' muscles were so clean and defined, that if he had seen a shirtless photo of him, he wouldn't have believed they were real, and would have claimed they were photoshopped.

"Perfect..." he admired Klaus' shirtless form with hungry eyes, and a lick of his lips. Then he looked up into Klaus' eyes, and smirked, blurring over to his now paint spattered canvas, and grabbing a paintbrush with blue on the tip. He sped back over to Klaus, who was eyeing him curiously, with a tilt of his head. "And paint-able."

"You wouldn't," Klaus dared him. Damon's grin held firm, and a split second later, he swiped the paintbrush repeatedly across Klaus' bare chest, leaving a crisp, bold line of dark blue, "well that was a stupid thing to say." Klaus looked down at himself, and then back up at Damon, something unknown glinting in his eyes.

"Yup," Damon chuckled, popping the 'p'. He twirled his paintbrush in between his fingers, "I'm Damon Francesco Salvatore, master hybrid painter," he proclaimed, chuckling. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Klaus load up the end of his paintbrush with a fresh helping of black paint.

"No, Klaus, don't even-" Damon was cut off as Klaus smeared the paintbrush over his lips. The bristles tickled the soft skin, and Damon realised his mouth was slightly parted in surprise. He spat out a fleck of black once Klaus had withdrawn, looking triumphant. "Paint tastes surprisingly bitter," he commented.

"Black suits you," Klaus smirked. Damon frowned shortly, he wasn't going to let Klaus get away with painting his mouth black without a form of punishment or payback. He sped over to the canvas he'd gotten the blue-tipped paintbrush from, and amongst the dirty ones, he found a clean one. He dipped it in the deep violent color, and sped back over to Klaus.

He barely reacted, obviously knowing Damon would choose to pay him back this way. Damon swiped the brush over Klaus' mouth, and smiled triumphantly. "And purple suits _you,_" he chuckled, pointing the paintbrush at the tip of Klaus' nose. He smirked and tackled Damon to the ground.

_Game on_.

The hours blurred by, accompanied by the relentless throwing of paint between both supernatural creatures. Damon would never admit this to anyone, but he was having fun for the first time in his life, and with Klaus of all people! He was a fair shot, he'd hit Damon more times that he could count, and Damon had only managed to get about ten or eleven shots. And to his dismay, he hadn't been able to get close enough to pay Klaus back for pouring paint into his hair.

A last paint-bomb was thrown, and Damon held his hands up in surrender. He was so tired, he'd need about ten blood bags to rejuvenate himself. Klaus walked over to him, free of colorful ammunition.

"I think we need a shower, don't you?" he asked, surveying his paint-stained chest.

"Definitely," Damon nodded in agreement, looking at the carnage around them. Colors of all shades and hues stained both their bodies, and the walls. His hair was none the worse for wear, and he was sure his jeans were ruined, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He brought himself back to reality with a thud, and remembered that Klaus had said something about them having a shower. "Wait, together?" he asked.

"Is that a problem?" Klaus asked. His tone implied that he didn't care what the answer was, but his eyes were telling him something different.

"Not really," Damon shrugged. Showering with another man wasn't exactly a mystery to him, and back in 1864, he used to have to share a bath with Stefan, so it didn't seem like that big of a deal. But the small, maybe not so small detail, that _Klaus_ of all people would be with him, made his stomach churn. "It's just I'm worried you'll find me so smoulderingly hot that you won't be able to control yourself," he played himself off with some humor, smirking in Klaus' direction.

"Is that a challenge?" his eyebrows were raised, and his lips held a smirk which mirrored Damon's own.

"Should you choose to accept it," Damon chuckled. Klaus rolled his eyes with a smile, and began walking to the bathroom. Damon followed. He was glad no-one was home, he dreaded - yet it brought a smile to his face to think about - what the paint-fight would have been like if Rebekah, Kol and Elijah were here.

Kol would probably team up with Klaus, and use some crafty tactics, Rebekah would possibly worry about her hair, but wouldn't hesitate to get rough if it was messed with, Elijah would stand there with a smile on his face as he reprimanded them for being childish, and he'd only join in if either Kol or Damon - Klaus and Rebekah would be too busy scuffling - took a shot at him.

Klaus pushed open the door to the bathroom, and Damon's jaw nearly dropped. It was a hundred times better than his bathroom - and he _loved_ his bubble baths or cold after-sex showers - to boot. The bathtub was flawless porcelain, with clawed feet, the shower looked neatly polished, and the taps glimmered in the sunlight. The trademark of pure silver and money well spent.

Pulling open the double doors, Klaus reached an arm inside and twisted the top dial. Jets of hot water streamed out, and pattered against the shower floor. He unbuckled his jeans, and slipped them off, along with his boxers, walking inside the shower. Damon stayed frozen to the spot, feeling uncertain for the first time in years.

"Not scared are you, Damon?" Klaus - a very naked Klaus - teased him through the slowly condensing glass.

"Pssh, of what?" Damon stripped off what was left of his clothing, and stepped inside the shower, closing the double doors behind him, sticking his tongue out at Klaus in a childish display of 'I told you so'. Heat hit him at full force, and ignited every patch of skin possible. Damon pleaded it was the heat anyway.

"It's astounding that you're what, 160-170, and yet you _still_ act like a five-year old sometimes," Klaus commented as he rubbed gently at his mouth, and then his arms. The dried paint crumbled off his body, and tainted the water all different colors before it swirled down the plughole.

"Hey!" Damon protested, proceeding to scrub at his chest. He thought showering with Klaus would be a lot more awkward, but it wasn't. Damon still felt tension in the air, but he was fairly certain it was coming from him, and not Klaus.

"I did say sometimes," he held his hands up and chuckled. Damon snuck a glance at Klaus' Greek-like body, and found himself heating up. He _knew_ it wasn't the water, but he couldn't be attracted to Klaus, could he? Maybe he'd deluded himself into thinking he was in love with Elena? He didn't know, all he _did_ know, was that his mind was becoming a fuzzled mess thanks to a certain hybrid.

"Like what you see, Damon?" he teased him, back still turned. Damon heard the smirk and smugness in his voice, and quickly turned his head, focusing on the shower doors, choosing to quickly rub the paint off his mouth.

"If it's glass with water droplets on it, then yes, yes I do," Damon smirked, hoping Klaus would drop the matter. He poked his cheek lightly, and to his relief the skin was baby-soft, not dried with cracked paint.

"I know you were staring at me Damon," Klaus' voice whispered in his ear.

"Keep dreaming," Damon lied, hating how his voice choice to betray him and become a stutter in that moment. He heard Klaus chuckle, and, ignoring the growing pressure that was in his stomach, busied himself with scrubbing himself clean.

"Damned stuff won't come off!" he complained a few moments later, scrubbing furiously at his chest and arms under the stream of water. The stains had paled considerably, but the rest of them were being stubborn, and remained as bright as they had when they'd first made contact with his skin. He gritted his teeth in annoyance, and growled, deciding to use his nails. It didn't do much good, and scratches began appearing on his arms.

He felt Klaus' hand gently pry his off his bleeding bicep. The scratches healed instantly under the pelting droplets of water, leaving thin, red lines. Damon felt Klaus twist his body under his arm, and their bodies were pressed together. Klaus' free arm wrapped around Damon's waist, and began massaging a soap-covered palm over the paint stains.

Damon squirmed in Klaus' grip, but couldn't find the willpower - let alone the _strength_ - to push him away, or fight him off. He blinked repeatedly, trying to clear his mind, but it was clouded. He couldn't tell if it was because of the steam coming from the scaldingly hot water, or if it was because Klaus' hand was getting extremely low...

"Better?" Klaus' purred in his luxurious accent, and Damon fought with his body to keep his legs from buckling as his warm lips pressed against the back of his neck. He bit on his tongue to fight back a moan, but it still came out sounding slightly muffled. His eyes drooped without his consent as Klaus' fingers gently massaged the remaining green paint from his hair. The tinted green water slid down his body, and swirled into the plug hole.

"Klaus..." Damon gasped with closed eyes, turning his head towards his chest. Klaus' hand was continuing its way up and around his body. His fingers brushed his inner thigh, and Damon's eyes shot up. He jerked in surprise, but barely moved, Klaus' arm was holding him still while his hand continued its ministrations.

"Whatever's the matter Damon?" Klaus asked in a mocking tone, skating his fingers just above the apex of Damon's thighs once more. The younger vampire shivered, and he felt himself get dizzier and dizzier. He couldn't tell if it was because they were in the shower anymore, and Damon knew in that moment that his reactions were his own, not the result of a dizzy spell. "Do you find me so smolderingly hot that you can't control yourself?" Damon frowned at Klaus' usage of his previous words before they entered the bathroom.

He bit his lip to hide his whimper as Klaus _finally_ palmed him in his hand, and he felt an aching jerk of arousal rush through his veins, lighting them on fire. Electricity was charging into his body, running rampant. "S-stop it."

Klaus chuckled. "Alright, I'll just do something else then," Damon felt Klaus whirl him around, and the next thing he knew was Klaus' lips crashing down on his. His back was pressed against the tile walls, and Damon tried to take a breath, but Klaus wouldn't let him. Klaus' hands reached behind his head, tangling one into his hair, and tracing patterns on Damon's collarbone with his other one.

Damon moaned as the familiar build-up of heat in the pit of his stomach made itself apparent, and what little blood that wasn't tainting his cheeks in a heat-induced blush, rushed south. Damon felt Klaus smirk against his lips, and he rocked against him, eliciting a sudden, shocked gasp from him. Pleasure coursed up through him like lightning, the back of his head rolling on the ceramic tiles behind him as Klaus' tongue probed deep into his mouth.

Damon had never been kissed like this before, by anyone, even as he got older, more rebellious, and he knew people were holding back on him. But Klaus wasn't. Their tongues battled in a rough display of dominance, which Klaus narrowly won. Damon's moans came out muffled as Klaus' tongue explored virtually every inch of his mouth, he wrapped his arms around Klaus' neck, and felt him break away. He smirked to hide his slight disappointment.

"You're lucky I think you're hot, and that you're a hybrid," Damon panted from a mixture of the hot steam swirling around them, and the ferocity of the recent kiss, "otherwise I would have punched you in the face," he chuckled, regaining his sarcastic demeanour almost instantly.

"Well nobody else is going to touch you," Klaus' thumb brushed over his dampened collar-bone, making him shudder. He looked down at Klaus' lips, so plump and perfect. Damon wanted him to kiss him again. "You're mine."

Normally, Damon resented the idea of being someone else's, but as Klaus kissed him a second time, he didn't mind as much. If he was going to be anyone's, it was Klaus'. The kiss was fiery and passionate - unleashing both of their hidden desires towards one another. Damon's hands trailed around the back of Klaus' head, through his hair, down the back of his neck, before coming to a halt with a pressed palm on his chest. Both of Klaus' hands tangled themselves into Damon's mess of, now green-free, raven hair, his thumbs stroking the apples of his cheeks.

Damon moaned, shivering at the same time as all the familiar pleasures of being with another man dawned on him. It was all-consuming, and neither one of them were uncertain about what they wanted. Damon could tell from the way Klaus' tongue was exploring his mouth that he wanted dominance over him, and Damon himself wanted Klaus inside him.

He broke away, and Damon took in a rapid gasp of the hot steam which had surrounded them, as if it was shielding them in their own fortress. Damon's deft fingers walked around Klaus' back, wrapping them around his neck as Klaus began leaving a trail of kisses along his collarbone. Each time he sucked on the skin, it left a red mark which was made more prominent by the heat around them.

"Klaus..." Damon closed his eyes and tipped his head back in pure bliss, resting it on the dripping tiles. He felt Klaus' raspy breaths head up the curve of his neck, and then his teeth gently nip at his earlobe, before nibbling at the shell. Damon knew Klaus was revelling in the fact that he was driving him totally and undeniably crazy. His steel-gray eyes looked at him, as if he was searching for something, and then proceeded to stare longingly at his lips.

Damon moved his fingers around the curve of Klaus' head, and urged him forward, giving Klaus permission for his un-asked question, but his lips didn't go to his own, but instead to Damon's neck, re-marking it. Damon squirmed and another moan slipped from his lips as Klaus pressed themselves together so tightly, Damon could barely move, only squirm and writhe as he attacked his neck.

A short time after, Klaus withdrew his head, trailing his lips extremely close to the dampened skin, up his neck, over his jaw, until he came to Damon's lips. He shivered as Klaus' tongue made a long trail up his lips, before theirs merged together, touching in a passionate open-mouthed fight for control. He felt Klaus' hands descend his body, and his fingers curl around his hips, he then felt slight pressure-

Damon's eyes flew open at a sudden swelling of pain at his lower half. He knew what Klaus had done, it was what he wanted, but he'd forgotten about how much it would hurt, especially after a long time period. If Klaus wasn't holding him against the wall, he would have collapsed.

Klaus broke away from the kiss to let Damon's gasps of pain free. He gently stroked the dripping wet strands of hair around Damon's eyes. "Are you alright?"

"Just move, _please,_" Damon hissed out in agony, his lower muscles clenching. While he wasn't a virgin in that particular way, it had been years, maybe a couple of decades, since he'd been with another man. He gasped as he felt Klaus slid out of him, and thrust back inside him, only it wasn't of pain this time. It was of undeniable pleasure.

"Better?" he asked, placing both his hands on the shower wall behind Damon's head. He shifted from the loss of gentle contact, but nodded. Klaus smiled, latching his fingers onto the sides of Damon's neck, roughly grabbing his face and slamming their lips together. Damon moaned into his mouth as Klaus began thrusting into him, not being extremely rough, not being gentle.

His lips broke away from Klaus' and his head fell back as the hybrid curled a hand around him and began teasing him, circling the tip with his thumb, a smirk spread across his face. Damon gasped, his hips jerking off the tiled wall as white-hot pleasure streaked through him. He felt Klaus kiss his neck again, while simultaneously teasing him, and managing to wrap one of his legs around his waist, pressing up against him.

"Mmmm," Damon moaned, turning his head to the side as he felt Klaus kissing and sucking at the damp skin. The shower temperature was beginning to get suffocating, but neither of them needed air to breathe or were affected by the scalding anyway. In his pleasurable daze, Damon felt Klaus' lips run up the expanse of his neck.

"Hmm, you like that Damon?" Klaus purred, and Damon's only possible response was another moan. He felt himself getting closer and closer, and his muscles began clenching. He didn't want it to be over yet, and he _certainly _didn't want Klaus to stop either. Damon turned his head for another scorching kiss, and Klaus gladly accepted, delving his tongue inside Damon's mouth.

Damon whimpered uncharacteristically as he felt his muscles get tighter and tighter, like someone was wrapping a cord around his legs, and unhooked his leg from Klaus' waist, giving himself something to stand on. _Literally_. He knew he wouldn't have to wait much longer, unless Klaus decided he was going to deny him release. Damon attached his lips to Klaus' again, shuddering as he felt the last muscles in his body clench and tighten, his hips were almost raised away from the wall.

Damon felt himself being thrown over the edge and jerked forwards, unintentionally sinking his fangs into the spot between Klaus' neck and shoulder-blade. He felt hot, silk-like blood drip from beneath his lips as Klaus met his end shortly after him. His body convulsed in his arms and Klaus made little to no effort to hold Damon still.

His head dropped downwards and he struggled to catch his breath, the water streaming off of his hair, and pooling in the small gap between him and Klaus. Damon's entire body was pulsating with the recognizable feeling of being satisfied. He hadn't felt like that since he was daring to break the mould of sleeping with girls. He was broken from his thoughts as Klaus' index and middle finger tilted his chin up to meet his eyes.

"You up for round two, love?" Klaus asked, kissing his bloody lips.

"If you can handle it," Damon smirked at him, even though he was the more breathless of the two. The look in Klaus' eyes told him '_Challenge accepted'._

~ooOOoo~

Damon shut the door to the boarding house, limping slightly as he walked into the foyer. Klaus had been a lot more rough during their second round, and it was safe to say it would take a few weeks to scrub the paint off the tiles, he couldn't say the same for the carnage in the living room though. The place looked like a paint bomb had went off.

He threw his jacket down on the floor, and began hobbling towards the parlour. He smelt distinctly of lavender, and Damon smirked. He'd went into the shower dirty, and came out even dirtier.

He walked over to his liquor cart, and grabbed his favourite bottle of bourbon. He poured himself a decent sized glass, and downed it in one gulp. On some levels, he was hoping Stefan would make him go painting with Klaus - the reason he said yes in the first place still remained a mystery - but he was hoping he could just be left alone to feed.

But no, that wouldn't happen, not with Elena around and shoving her nose into a _vampire's_ business. Damon's phone buzzed, distracting him from his mental Elena-hate. He picked it up and to his relief, it wasn't Elena calling, it was Stefan.

He answered the call and put it to his ear, "Brother, had an eventful day? Any squirrels hunt you down yet?"

Stefan chuckled down the line, "Hey Damon, how was painting with Klaus?"

A smirk formed on Damon's face. "Let's just say, I gave Klaus a nickname he doesn't like, purple and black make a really nice combination, I should never dye my hair green, Klaus' shower got some major modification done, and I have had paint in places where it should _never_ be."

~ooOOoo~

**(A/N) M'kay, that's that for this one shot. It's just a random idea I came up with in Art class when people (me included XD) were throwing paint around (nobody got naked), and I thought about Klaus and Damon for a random reason. Probably because Klaus can paint, while Jeremy and Tyler mostly sketch, and a graphite fight, not quite. (Hey that rhymed! Cooool...)**

**Review with your thoughts please, the box is only down there. :P**


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